Stay
by EvaBlythe
Summary: Nikita decides to unwind, getting more than she hoped.
1. Chapter 1

The sheets seemed to suffocate her. It was too soft and hard all at the same time, too warm but too cold. With each minute, he grew repulsed by her bed and eventually stood from it, disgust written all over her face.

The night had settled comfortably in the loft, and the darkness had crept in to fill the deep recesses of the loft. She needed to relax, to calm her heart and busy mind. But there was no rest for her, no relaxation methods she could recall from years of being in control. It was late, but the thought of a warm bath suddenly filled her mind, beckoning her and she could not resist its nags.

Filling the tub with warm water, she stripped her bra and underwear off, stepping into the warmness of the tub. She sighed with relief, settling herself inside the tub, her hands placed delicately on the tub's edge. Slowly, her mind came to a halt, the worrying and plans all ceased to make noise and the elusive quiet she had searched for found her mind, calming it. Her hands fell inside the tub, rousing her momentarily, before settling back.

She stayed in the tub for what seemed like hours, warming the water whenever it became too cold, her skin began to prune, but the thought of it could not bother Nikita, she needed this more than she needed sleep. Hours had passed, and eventually the water cooled, causing her nipples to perk up and her skin to become aware. The water, caressing each part of her body, went into places where she longed to be touched. She hadn't realized it before, but her loneliness had been drawn out longer than anyone could have guessed. And now, sitting in her tub, the cold water enveloping her, she felt the need to be touched. The overwhelming need to be caressed by a man, by Michael. She sighed with longing and emptiness, her hands drifting unconsciously closer to the place in need of a caress. Nikita found herself inching closer to her sex, unsure of what to do and whether she would allow herself to be pleasured. She let out another sigh, taking the plunge, and entering her slick folds, hesitantly at first, and then gaining confidence with each thrust and pleasurable feel. She missed this, missed the feeling of satisfaction. She felt herself getting more aroused with each thrust, adding another finger when she began to feel more need. Her juices spilled over, mixing in with the ice cold water, and drove her mad. How many times had she felt empty and denied herself pleasure and satisfaction? Too many times she scolded herself. Now, sitting inside her tub, legs perched up and head flung backwards, Nikita let herself go, became a woman she never wanted to be, but needed to be.

She spread her legs wider, allowing her fingers to go deeper within her folds, she arched forward as something akin to an orgasm took hold of her, her walls clenching forcefully on her fingers. She let a name slip out of her mouth, the only name she wanted to say, "Michael."

Realization hit her hard, and although she felt perverted, she couldn't stop the self induced ministrations. The water had gone from ice cold to unbearable, but Nikita couldn't make herself climb out of the tub, instead she continued thrusting her fingers within herself, imagining Michael on top of her, breathing her name and sucking her erect nipples. Hell, she was so aroused right now that her fingers didn't seem to satisfy her anymore. She allowed herself to caress her clit, bucking her hips as her nail grazed the sensitive nub. "Oh, ahh," she let out in a breathy voice.

Her other hand, which had remained on her stomach, crawled upwards towards her breasts. Flicking her nipple back and forth, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. She was driving herself mad. Finally, adding a third finger in, Nikita found herself coming, a full-fledged orgasm ripping through her, as she screamed, "Michael!" into the night sky. Her scream echoing through the loft, reminding her of her loneliness.

Nikita, tired and lethargic, didn't bother to drain the tub or put her clothes back on, instead opting to sleep in the nude. With her sheets no longer a bother, Nikita drifted into sleep, satisfied, unknowing of the shadow that lurked dangerously close to her bed.

Michael, who had worked all day at Division trying to find Nikita's location, had finally succeeded. And though protocol would have wanted him to tell Percy, his heart begged differently. He kept the location of her lair a secret, deciding to ignore this new information and allow her the idea of security. In truth, he could not bear the idea of being the one to compromise her safety, Michael would never want that.

So he trudged home after his long day, pushing the location of Nikita's lair out of his mind. Without knowing, Michael found himself at home and asleep, not bothered by the pull he felt to see her and hear her voice. He would not so easily fall into seduction, even if it was only implied. But after tossing and turning in his bed, he woke to find his heart pounding and mind restless, nagging him and telling him to go to her, no matter how dangerous and imprudent it may be. He had to see her.

And see her he did. He watched in the dark as she too tossed and turned in her sleep, and though he wanted to comfort her, his mind told him to wait, that it would only scare her. He stood in the corner, allowing the darkness to be his cover, he felt invasive and was about leave, when he saw her strip off her bra and underwear and make her way upstairs. He immediately felt repulsed by his presence and lack of decorum. He needed to leave, but curiosity took hold and he silently followed her up the stairs.

He saw her then, under the dim light of her bathroom, inside her bath tub, her hair spilling out and her body sheltered by the tub. He smiled at her peaceful expression, touched by her quietness. Suddenly, however, she began to squirm, her hands dropped inside the tub and her eyes fluttered to a close. He felt worry grip his heart, but then the worry dissipated as he heard her moan his name, breathy and raspy. He went on high alert, feeling guilty for his prying eyes and presence. _She knew he was here,_ he thought, and as he was about to reveal himself, he heard her moan in pleasure, arousing him, halting him. He grew hard at her voice and he realized that she had not known he was here.

Realization hit him, as he found himself watching Nikita pleasure herself in her tub, calling his name in need. She needed him, wanted him and that was enough for him, but as he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of her again, she had perched her legs on the tub's edge, undoubtedly to gain better access. He could see her now, as his imagination took hold of him, her legs spread wide, welcoming her long, slender fingers inside herself, her juices making her slick with want, her clit throbbing with arousal. Fuck, he was getting hard imagining her touch herself. He cursed quietly. Wanting so badly to be the one causing her pleasure. To be the one on top of her, sucking her erect nipples. Hell, this woman was of another kind. His reverie was interrupted, however, when Nikita, in all her vigor, yelled his name into the night sky, beckoning him to join her.

He watched her as she climbed out of the tub, wet and glowing, and make her way down the stairs, ignoring her bra and underwear, she slipped into bed. Michael saw this and longed to caress her olive skin. To grip her hair in his hands as he made love to her. He needed her as much as she needed him, and he found himself dangerously close to her bedside. He could hear her breathe in and out. He could see the water droplets that sparkled even under the blackness of the night. He could smell her scent and he found himself being drawn to her. Her lips parted, called to him.

"Nikita," he breathed out, longing dripping with each syllable.

She did not stir from her slumber, and feeling bold, Michael placed a chaste kiss upon her lips as he turned to walk away. However, his arm was suddenly being held onto, preventing him from exiting her loft.

"Stay with me," she whispered, meekly and unsure.

He turned back to face her, seeing her eyes plead with need and loneliness, he succumbed and sat down on her bed. Michael felt guilty, knowing he had invaded her privacy and though he wanted to explain, she seemed to understand.

"You were watching me weren't you," she stated, not questioned. "I felt your presence, but I was a bit preoccupied."

He smiled at her humour, but said nothing, allowing her to speak instead.

"Michael, I want you," she breathlessly added. "Touch me."

And that was all she needed to say for him to devour her. His lips were on hers, hungrily kissing them. He found her guiding his hand down to her sex, already wet and inviting. She was so wet with need that his desire to thrust into her flared up, prompting him to insert his fingers into her slick and moistened folds. She whimpered at the invasion, but bucked her hips to meet his intruding fingers.

She was so tight and wet, it drove him mad, making him harder. She moaned his name, allowing each syllable to roll of her tongue. He clasped his mouth onto her erect nipple, sucking hard, needing her to scream in pleasure and pain. As he sucked, he thrust his fingers deeper into her, making her spread her legs wider, inviting him inside.

She missed this, missed the way he held onto her, missed the way he made her feel alive and passionate. He was pushing her off the edge, driving her insane. She cupped his erection and caressed it innocently, feeling him shudder with need. She found his eyes staring back at hers, dark and full of love. She smiled, but the smile was short lived as he pinched her sensitive nub, causing her to spasm with an orgasm. He kissed her lips, chastely and slipped his fingers out of her.

She whimpered at the loss of them, but watched has he made his way down. Felt as he blew warm air into her opening, causing her to come alive with awareness. Wordlessly, he began sucking her clit, slipping his warm tongue into her, causing her to squirm with pleasure and fulfillment.

"Michael, Michael, Mi—" she yelled, driving Michael to suck harder and delve deeper. She was too close and wanted him to stop. Without warning, she sat up, causing him to fall back onto the concrete floor of her loft. He watched as Nikita stood up, naked. Watched as she beckoned him to stand, and felt as she began to undress him, quickly and expertly.

She pursed her lips when he too stood naked. Pushing him onto the bed, Nikita knelt in front of him, taking him inside her mouth. His eyes fluttered to a close, pleasure seizing him. He didn't need her to do this, he wanted to be the one to fulfill her, but her sucking paralyzed him, making him forget who he was.

"Nikita," he breathed out, "stop."

She complied, though begrudgingly, for she knew he hadn't come here for that, knew that he wanted to give and not receive. Nikita smiled at his selflessness, however vain.

"You were watching me scream your name out in ecstasy," she whispered into his ear.

"Watched me slip each finger inside myself, watched as my hand grasped my breast," she described, making Michael hot with recollection.

She taunted him with each word and memory, and when he could no longer stand her teasing, he seized her, darkness overtaking him.

He smiled, his lips curling almost sinisterly. He placed a kiss on her lips, before seizing her hands and thrusting inside her, his need controlling his patience. Her eyes widened with shocked, but immediately eased with the feeling of him inside her, filling her to the brim.

Michael grunted with satisfaction as he thrust, slowly at first, and then quickening as she moaned and squirmed underneath him. She latched her legs onto him, allowing him to delve deeper inside her. She was eager and with each thrust, she was pushed to the edge, coming closer to release.

Finally, when a film of sweat covered Nikita and Michael, she came. Her walls clenching Michael tightly, her juices overflowing: slickening Michael's cock. He sighed with satisfaction, and with one last thrust he followed suit, grunting Nikita's name possessively.

"Michael," she whispered.

He brought her close to him, pulling the blanket over them, as they both drifted into slumber, clutching into each other as if scared to lose one another, scared of disappearing.


	2. Chapter 2

With a jolt, Michael woke up to find himself in an unfamiliar setting, sleeping on a foreign bed. He shifted his weight to look around the big room but realized that his movements were restricted by another's body, pressing all too intimately onto his. A shiver ran through his naked form, awakening his senses and memory, reminding him of where he was and who he was with.

"Nikita?" he whispered, hoarsely.

No response but her quiet breathing penetrating the tangible silence that seemed to deafen Michael's ears. He was lost. Confused on where to go next, unsure of what would happen when this sleeping beauty woke. He sighed; frustration and guilt mounting within him as images of them together flickered through his mind. Images of her welcomed themselves into his mind, making him vulnerable. There was no escape from her. No remedy to rectify his obvious addiction to her. He was as bad as some of the recruits, unwilling to let go of their past addictions, but unlike them his addiction was not to some chemical, his was to a woman. An aphrodisiac better than ecstasy.

He sighed louder still, releasing the building angst within him. There was no escape from her, he thought solemnly. Michael sat up, causing the bed to creak loudly underneath him. He hesitated to move again, but Nikita's steady breathing reassured him of her unconscious state.

The loft was bitterly cold. Its cement floors were hard and ice-like beneath Michael's feet. He shivered involuntarily, allowing the cold to overcome his senses. For a minute he stood, unmoving, until the cold became unbearable, making him reach for his pants and pull them on, however haphazardly.

He sighed again, tiredness wracking his body. _This wasn't what was supposed to happen, _he thought regretfully.

Michael looked back to the bed, admiring the peacefulness that was etched onto her face. A look of utter harmony, a look that would never cross his own face. His life, past and present, was too hard and bitter for any sign of weakness, any sign of humanity. He was a damned man, living a damned life within the shadows. A life that was covered with lies and duplicity. A life where love and affection would and could kill. His life could not involve Nikita as anything other than his enemy, a target to be captured and detained—perhaps even executed if Percy saw it necessary. _Percy_, the thought of him made bile build in the back of Michael's mouth. Percy, a man whose emotional bank ran dry all too soon. A man so capable of coldly ending the lives of his inferiors. Michael too saw the monster Percy was, but unlike his sleeping counterpart, Michael could not bear to revolt against the man who had promised him his vengeance against Kasim. Percy held Michael too closely and too expertly, and though Michael knew, there was no escape from Percy's hardened grip.

"Michael?" Nikita rasped, rousing the daydreaming Michael.

"Good morning," he replied, too coldly.

"So we're back there?" she questioned. "Back to where we were before last night?"

Michael only looked at her with remorse shining in his eyes.

"You don't get it, do you Michael? You don't understand anything except how to kill and follow Percy's orders. Why don't you just go back to him then, he's the person you want to listen to anyways."

Silence. The room pulsed with an electric silence, punctuated with their steady breathing. Nothing was said between the pair. Nothing but the silent words that ran through their muddled minds, words that were just mere whispers against the loud silence that held them captive.

"It's not like that," Michael started, "I do understand, because it's the same for me. It's always been the same, even when you were only a recruit. When you met Daniel, and when you escaped and turned against Division—against me."

He let out a tired sigh and looked up at her.

"Nikita, it's always been you."

"You should have told me," she consoled. "I wanted you to be the one comforting me after each mission, I wanted you to be the one I saw in my apartment every night! But you were so blind to it all! So stoic with your angry mask."

It was always like this between them, this tango of love and hate. There was no sleep for the conflicted, no sleep for those who are damned to the underworld. Michael and Nikita. Nikita and Michael. Two souls entwined and damned together. Damned to a life of conflicted emotions. A life of eternal unrest.

"I wasn't blind to it all, I was paralyzed. Restrained to act by our superiors," Michael admitted. "I'm not as strong as you."

Nikita looked at Michael's face, clear defeat written deeply within the lines that seemed to sprout out of nowhere. A familiar feeling tugged at her heart, a feeling of empathy for the only man she ever loved. She smiled a sad smile, and got off the bed, pulling the white sheets along with her. There was a moment of hesitation until she took a tentative step towards him.

"You still don't see it, but you are so much stronger than I have ever been," Nikita confessed. "Michael, you stayed inside Division when I could no longer. You held to every shred of humanity while working for an organization void of any emotion or affection. I couldn't do that. That's why I left. I was beginning to lose my humanity, and I wasn't like you, I'm still not like you. I couldn't hold it together."

Tears began to spring from Nikita's eyes. A plethora of emotions unleashing themselves without permission. But this was not the time for reservations or masks. Here she stood in front of Michael, _her Michael, _without barriers.

"You'll never have to be as strong as I am…" Michael whispered, quickly closing the gap between them.

"Michael?" she said, looking questioningly into his eyes.

Taking her in his arms and kissing the top of her head, he held still.

"…because now you'll _always_ have me."


End file.
